


483. I am Staniel

by SevlinRipley



Category: It - All Media Types
Genre: Blasphemy, Canon Jewish Character, Canon-Typical Sexual Language, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Kissing, Love Confessions, Lunch, M/M, Religion Kink, Sexual Roleplay, Texting, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:42:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevlinRipley/pseuds/SevlinRipley
Summary: After a while of being evaded, Richie gets tired of the UST that's controlling their friendship.





	483. I am Staniel

**Author's Note:**

> SERIOUSLY SERIOUSLY DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE RELIGIOUS. Or not into religious kink/blasphemy! I've already had two people say they had to skip stuff. You shouldn't _have_ to skip stuff. Don't read this. Okay? ♥

"So... when're you gonna stop avoiding coming to my place?"

Stan looked up, passed the steam rising from his teacup, brows drawn. "Uh, I'm not? Avoiding it, I mean." Richie was smirking at him while stabbing at a lemon slice within his iced tea. So Stan swallowed, then took a sip of his chamomile hoping that if there was any kind of blush on his face, he could blame the heat from his tea.

"You won't let me come over to _your_ place either," Richie accused, lowering his head to take a sip from his straw, eyes trained on Stan the entire time. With his eyes narrowed, Stan set his cup down, and then purposefully drew his gaze toward his croissant sandwich. At his silence, Richie smiled to himself, cheeks budging up. "Okay, so you're not going to admit that we can't hang out in private for some reason. That's cool... Then why don't I come over to your place after lunch, and we can watch a movie together."

"Fine," Stan said, around a bite of egg salad sandwich, "I'll call Bill and Bev."

Rolling his eyes, Richie sighed. "Jesus, you're a trip. You can side-step all you want, Uris, but you know damn well I said ' _private_.' Just me an' you, compadre."

Pushing Richie's plate closer to Richie's chest, Stan said, "Just eat your sandwich. Movies are more fun with more people."

"Only someone who's never made out during a movie would say that," Richie told him, poking at the bread of his sandwich as though offended by its presence. Stan rolled his eyes, this time, pulling the sandwich closer to himself. He peeled it back, and began pulling off the ingredients Richie disliked: tomato, red onions, and sprouts, leaving them on his own plate. How Richie had forgotten to order his food without, he didn't know, but the big baby wasn't even willing to touch them, so Stan, of course, had to. Richie was on the cusp of an orgy joke when Stan slid his plate back over and cut in.

"So you were planning on making out with me this afternoon?" He tried not to let his cheeks heat up, since he was teasing Richie, and not himself. But there was truth to what Richie was saying... Not that Stan would admit it. He'd started getting antsy when they were alone lately. Felt like he was gonna do something he'd regret. Like sit too close to Richie, let his pinky touch Richie's where their hands sat between them. And if he started up all of that, it was entirely possible it'd lead into so much more. So Stan began ushering their hangouts to public places.

Honestly, if he weren't so frustrated, he'd be impressed Richie noticed.

Stan's eyes lit up slightly as Richie's own cheeks started to look a little sun-touched. "Maybe," Richie said, not sounding at all as confident as he was trying to.

"Shut up," Stan said, around a smile, as he tucked into his sandwich once more. Richie was all fuckin' talk, and he knew it. Biting into his lower lip, Richie studied his plate again, and then finally gave into eating. "Good?" Stan asked, taking a bite out of Richie's tomato shortly thereafter. Richie was nodding before he looked up. And then made a face at Stan, lines forming around his nose and mouth as his eyes bunched up.

"Well, I'm not gonna make out with you _now_ ; that's just gross."

Snorting softly, Stan flapped the tomato in front of his face as he said, sing-song, "Guess I've got a golden ticket." Then he took another large bite of it, snickering at the disgust on Richie's face. "You like ketchup. You know that's made of tomato right? And Pizza sauce? And -"

"Stop trying to ruin everything. You know they add buckets of sugar. There's barely any tomato left by the end."

 

Both Bill and Bev were called. And then Ben, and Mike, and Eddie. Not a single one of them had time to drop by. Stan was positively _grumbling_ at Eddie, as he talked into his phone. "Please... You cannot possibly tell me you don't have two hours of free time." - "Oh, really? Commute is gonna kill you? _I'm_ gonna kill you." - "I'm the brat? For wanting to hang out with you?" - "That - is _not_ true," Stan said, turning his face away from Richie's knowing gaze. " _Fine_. Love you, too," Stan sighed, before hanging up his phone.

The wind was blowing outside, ominous, as Stan turned dark eyes on Richie, looking resigned. "Didn't wanna third wheel it, huh?" Richie asked, lips turned up. But his next words were on the shaky side; he breathed them out. "Guess the movie's cancelled. So I'll see you next week for breakfast?" He was pulling his card out from the black folder containing the restaurant's insignia, and shoving it into his wallet, then back into his pocket, ready to leave.

Stan looked at him, momentarily perplexed. It wasn't like Stan had a choice, now. He'd already said he had time for a movie. If he backed out, that would mean admitting he couldn't be alone with Richie. Which either meant making up a problem, or admitting that Stan had started questioning whether his feelings were really all that platonic anymore.

"What? Just because no one else can come, you don't wanna watch a movie with me?" Stan asked, quirking a teasing brow as he turned the tables.

It was worth torturing himself, just to see the way Richie perked up. Worth the butterflies in his stomach, and then the churn of his stomach when Richie leaned in close, smile wide on his face, before he placed his palm on Stanley's cheek. "Should we swing by the Adult Video shop on the way there? 'It's art, too, y'know?'"

"Fuck off," Stan said, reeling back, with a laugh, slapping Richie's hand away.

 

Richie wolf-whistled as he ran his fingers along the spines of the VHS collection Stan had in his entertainment center. "Jennifer Tilly? You were right, pal. No need for porn to get this guy revved up."

Tipping his head back, Stan groaned. "I'm not _trying_ to get you 'revved up' so if you can't keep it in your pants, I forbid you from picking any of her movies."

"I'm more worried about _your_ pants? Does she not get you going? I mean, you have like _five_ of her films, Stan. That can't be a coincidence." Stan didn't even bother trying to see what movie Richie was slipping from a case, and down, into the VCR. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Tilly was going to make an appearance.

"I'd throw popcorn at you, but I don't want to stain the floor." The gangly idiot would probably crush it into the carpet with his foot the second he turned around, anyway.

Richie flashed a smile over his shoulder. "Can you make it into my mouth?" he asked, before dropping his jaw open.

Stan looked at Richie, eyebrows pulled together in suspicion. "Not if that's innuendo..." he said, but carefully took aim at Richie's mouth anyway. Surprisingly, he actually made it within an inch of Richie's mouth. Still, it bounced off of his cheek and onto the floor. Before Stan could even start to frown at himself, Richie was sweeping it up and into his mouth anyway. "That settles it," Stan said, trying to keep his smile to a minimum. "We're definitely not making out what with you eating off the floor, and me eating a tomato. Guess it just wasn't meant to be."

"Well, Stan... that plan changed about five minutes ago, anyway. We're just gonna jerk it, together, that's all. No tongues necessary." This was all said very matter-of-fact, while Richie switched the t.v. on, and pressed all the necessary buttons to get the FBI Warning displayed. Then he joined Stan on the couch and spread his legs wide, feet landing on the coffee table. If he'd had his shoes on, Stan would've shouted, but he'd left them at the door and was in gray socks that probably used to be white. But at least his feet didn't stink as Stan might've suspected.

It was difficult for Stan not to trail his eyes up Richie's nearest leg, to his center. Difficult for him not to picture what Richie'd look like casually jerking off next to someone. He sucked in a sharp little breath just before his mouth decided to make it even more difficult. "Have you actually done that before?" Richie had the remote in his hand, against his inner thigh and Stan could feel himself losing this battle, and the next ten battles to come if he didn't avoid tipping Richie off. He nearly tipped the popcorn bowl over onto the couch as he gracelessly set it between them, moving away from Richie's vicinity, and into the kitchen.

The cool air of the fridge felt so nice on his face, that Stan was practically crawling inside. All for the better, if he had done, too, because now he had to spend two hours trying not to get turned on by stupid images of Richie's dumb ass getting off. At least he didn't have to see the look on Richie's face as he said, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Pulling from his special stash, Stan got a glass bottle of orange cream soda from the back, looking it over just to give Richie more time to settle down from Stan's curiosity. "You want a drink?" Stan asked, still squinting at the bottle as he brought his head up from the fridge.

"Are you... bribing me to tell you if I've done it before? Cause, sure!"

Stan exhaled shortly and shook his head. "No. I'm not. I don't care if you have." He pulled out a second bottle and set them on the counter so that he could pop the caps off. Tell himself he really meant what he just said, before going back to the couch. "Here," Stan said shortly, shoving the bottle at Richie before folding his legs up on the couch cushion. He was sure there'd be more, but Richie just un-paused the movie and let it roll, occasionally, scooting the popcorn Stan's way as a reminder that he didn't have to sit so stiffly. Didn't have to keep his arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, because hey, Richie wasn't gonna bite. Unless Stan asked him to.

 

 _ **Richie:**_ I haven't, by the way. It'd be hot though.  
_**Richie:**_ Not sure how easy it'd be to keep my hands and mouth to myself, however...

 _ **Richie:**_ Have you? Would you?  
_**Richie:**_ ...  
_**Richie:**_ Would you like it in a house?  
_**Richie:**_ Would you like it with a mouse?  
_**Richie:**_ Would you - could you, in a car?  
_**Richie:**_ Stroke it, stroke it! You'll cum far!  
_**Richie:**_ You may like it; we could see. You might like it, in a tree.

 _ **Richie:**_ We'll change 'mouse' to 'bird'... Then I bet you'll be in. ;)  
_**Stanley:**_ If I answer, will you stop ruining our childhood?  
_**Richie:**_ Try, and find out. ♥  
_**Stanley:**_ No, I haven't.  
_**Richie:**_ ...And? That's only one answer out of two questions.  
_**Stanley:**_ Maybe.  
_**Richie:**_ That's not an answer, Stanley. That's something parents say to kids when they don't care enough about the question to have an opinion. You clearly do care, or you would've answered straight away.

 _ **Richie:**_ Could you - would you, with a goat?  
_**Richie:**_ Would you - could you, on a boat?  
_**Richie:**_ I bet you'd jerk it, in a box.  
_**Richie:**_ I bet you'd jerk it, with a fox.  
_**Richie:**_ I bet you'd jerk it, in a house.  
_**Richie:**_ I bet you'd jerk it, with a mouse.  
_**Richie:**_ I bet you'd jerk it, here and there!  
_**Richie:**_ I bet you'd jerk it, ANYWHERE!

 _ **Stanley:**_ Some of those things are illegal.  
_**Richie:**_ But you would if you could?  
_**Richie:**_ On a train. In the dark. In the rain?  
_**Stanley:**_ I'll block your number, I swear to god.  
_**Richie:**_ I don't think that holds much threat, you blasphemer. *God  
_**Stanley:**_ You're out of the riddle anyway. Talked yourself right to the end.  
_**Richie:**_ Not quite. You haven't thanked me for enlightening you yet. But... I can be there in twenty. "Thank you, thank you!" I'll have you screaming it in no time; just say please.  
_**Stanley:**_ ...that's not even that kinky, Richie. Stop acting like you've introduced a new concept to me.  
_**Richie:**_ Well, Stanman. Why don't YOU enlighten ME, then? What is it you're into? What kinky shit gets you off at night?  
_**Stanley:**_ It's getting late...  
_**Richie:**_ Yeah, exactly :p So pretend we're sexting and get off while you tell me what you like. You won't have to drop me for porn that way.  
_**Stanley:**_ You're so obnoxious. I'll tell you some stuff so you stop pestering me, but in no way am I getting off to this. Understood?  
_**Richie:**_ Whatever you say, babe ;) Mind if I -?  
_**Stanley:**_ You wouldn't.  
_**Richie:**_ Fine. I'll be good. Go ahead, Daddy.

 _ **Richie:**_ Hm... Was that one of 'em? ;p  
_**Stanley:**_ ...I changed my mind. 'Night.  
_**Richie:**_ No way!  
_**Richie:**_ Do you seriously want to wake up to a thousand sexts from me? - I bet you would, actually. Go ahead, power off for the night. Then you can have your way with my words in the morning!  
_**Stanley:**_ You're so lame. Why are you so invested in me getting off? - Don't answer that.  
_**Richie:**_ Why? Cause you're afraid I'll be honest? Unlike you, this whole fucking day?  
_**Richie:**_ I'm serious, Stanny. Ask and ye shall receive. Tell and ye can give. Alllll. Night. Long.

 _ **Stanley:**_ I don't trust that you'll take this for what it is...  
_**Richie:**_ This? This, what? Are you asking me over?  
_**Richie:**_ ...Wait. What is it, then? You afraid I'll get attached to your cock? Is it that pretty?  
[image received]  
_**Richie:**_ Shut up! You pulled that from the internet!  
_**Stanley:**_ Guess there's one way for you to find out.  
_**Richie:**_ You're bullshitting me.  
_**Stanley:**_ Second verse same as the first.  
_**Richie:**_ So we ARE both switches. I was wondering...  
_**Stanley:**_ Wait. No. I just meant  
_**Stanley:**_ Shut up.  
_**Richie:**_ I'm taking a shower, dude. Do whatever you gotta do, but if you don't open your door when I knock, I'm breaking a window.  
_**Stanley:**_ Are not. Creep.  
_**Stanley:**_ I'll open the door. But I'm not waiting up for you, so you might have to ring the bell a couple times.  
_**Richie:**_ Like you could even fall asleep right now.  
_**Richie:**_ I'll be there soon. I promise. Just have to get dolled up for you. Big occasion. In more than one way, as you well know ;)

 

"Knew you wouldn't be asleep."

"Did you really take a shower?" Stan asked, the second Richie'd stepped in and closed the door behind him, wary of being pranked. Richie grabbed Stan's wrist, and brought it up to the hair on his head. Wet. Stan swallowed at the lump in his throat, suddenly feeling a little light-headed.

Richie's hand came to the curls on Stan's head, also feeling at the moisture there. They were warm to the touch. Stan must've been mid blow-dry when he answered the door. "I see you did, too. Shit... Why is that so hot?"

Slowly, Stan realized he'd been stroking a lock of Richie's hair between the pads of his fingers, and he drew his hand back to his side. Although still gazing at him, mesmerized, Richie retrieved his hand, too. "Richie?" Stan asked, voice on edge. Maybe he'd been a little wound up earlier. Caught in Richie's light-hearted way of approaching things. Like it wasn't a big deal if Stanley wanted him.

"You look nice," Richie said, all at once, short of breath.

Stan felt something dislodge, and he was helpless to the smile that came to his lips. "I look the same as always," he told Richie, ducking his head at the compliment nevertheless.

"I know," Richie said, swallowing before pressing on, "You always look nice."

He hated himself for blushing. He did. "Shut the fuck up, Richie."

"Can I kiss you?" Richie's hand was there on his cheek then, guiding Stan's eyes up to his.

For a moment, Stan forgot how to breathe, feeling something warm press into the hollow spaces within, at the intense look on Richie's face, the slight way in which his palm was shaking against Stan's face. Jittery with nerves Stan didn't know he had. Not for him, anyway. He always thought Richie might actually be something of a sap in bed, timid and eager to please. Desperate not to humiliate himself, but also not to let the moments go to waste before he was being excused.

"I brushed my teeth," Richie added, his laugh ghosting out between them.

Stan cocked his head as a sliver of a smile pressed up one corner of his mouth. "Unusually considerate," he said, before stretching up to meet Richie's lips. He watched, just for a second, the way Richie's eyes slowly closed, and then went tight all at once, before Stan's own eyelids dropped.

Richie's lips were cautious against his, barely meeting the initial pressure Stan jumped into. Bringing his hand up to the side of Richie's neck, he thumbed at Richie's tendon, felt Richie swallow harshly before he was pressing closer, full-body. Foot between Stan's. Then Stan was adjusting, lifting his lips off Richie's just enough so that he could press in at a different angle, let his tongue gently press to the seam of Richie's lips. He felt the second Richie remembered to breathe, hot breathe coming out from his nostrils before he was opening his own mouth.

It was soft, almost rhythmic, Richie's hand on his hip, and Stan's heart beating out of his chest and into Richie's where they pressed close. As Richie's hand slipped from his cheek, into Stan's hair, Stanley tipped their foreheads together, breaking the kiss. In that moment he was glad for Richie's contacts, no frames separating them as Stan settled his breathing.

A thumb pressed into his hip bone, causing Stan's mouth to drop open, and heat to pool in his gut.

He'd already been crazy with it in some ways. Had been half-hard walking into the shower. And then he'd fingered himself open more when he got out, pumping his cock with a light hand, just to tease himself. Now all he wore was a pair of blue and white-striped boxers, and a grey, cotton v-neck. Having Richie pressed so close, with just the one layer of cloth... Stan was near desperate enough to drag Richie's hand over to his cock.

Of course, Richie had gone and put on an unnecessary amount of layers. It was summer and he still wore that dumb leather jacket Bev had given him last winter, on top of a garish tee shirt, and the absolute ugliest pair of jeans Stan had ever seen in his life. Snagged at the crotch, a blue that couldn't be all that complimentary to anything, and very improportionate to Richie's skinny frame. Stan soon found out he'd even put a belt on - of course, because how else would those pants have stayed at his hips? "Jesus, Richie, why -" Stan asked, huffing, frustrated, as he gave up being graceful for undoing the belt with two hands.

Richie's laugh skittered down Stan's cheek, and then Stan's hands were being pushed out of the way so Richie could undo it himself. "Sorry... I'm not sure I thought you actually wanted - this." 'This' read a lot more like 'me' and it sounded absolutely ridiculous.

Stan knew he was all talk. Obviously. But... that was just too much.

"You're the idiot who's been pressing me all day to say -" The words stuck in his throat. Once the belt was out of the way of Richie's button, he pushed Richie's hands out of the way, in kind. Wrestling the button through its hole and the zipper down in sharp, succinct movements. "You're telling me," Stan started, sliding his palms over Richie's hips between his jeans and boxers, "This whole time, you didn't even believe a word you were saying?" Then he pulled Richie's waist forward, rough, straining up on his calves until he could feel the hard press of Richie's cock line up with his own.

" _Stan_ ," Richie whined, capturing his mouth in another kiss, wet. Less guarded this time. Both of his monster-sized hands gripped at the sides of Stanley's head, letting Stan control their lower halves. Richie's tongue slid over his, rough yet somehow soft, drawing a surge of want from Stan that had him rolling his hips into Richie's. The jeans nearly fell off his hips, open, no longer held up by the belt, only Stan's protruding knuckles creating a grip for them to stay up, as he dug his fingertips into the meat of Richie's sides. When they parted this time, Richie sucked in a deep breath, and admitted, low, "I guess not. I'm not sure I even believe it's happening _right now_."

Heart swelling, Stan gentled his touch, thumbing at Richie's hips, as he pressed a soft kiss to Richie's lips. "What can I do to prove to you that it is?"

It took barely a moment for Richie to answer. "Fuck me." He said it as though he were desperate for it. Like it was paining him that Stan wasn't already doing it.

On a warm smile, Stan pulled back enough, waiting patiently for Richie to meet his eyes. In the dark of the entry way, Richie's skin looked blue. Soft and pretty, cast in moonlight. Prominent cheeks speckled with desaturated-indigo freckles. A kiss was pressed, cautiously, just below Richie's right eye. Then Stan was nosing at his chin, saying, "But I already got myself ready for you," coy and needling.

With a breathy laugh, Richie half-heartedly rolled his eyes. "No fair; I called the shower first. Besides, I had to drive here..." He whined again, as Stan pressed his open mouth to the side of Richie's neck, laving at his soap-clean skin before sucking, the edges of his teeth pressing marks there. Circling their hips together, Stan drew another groan from Richie's mouth, and then Richie was babbling out, "Fine, fine. I'll fuck you but you don't get to cum till you're fucking _me_."

"Deal," Stan breathed, breath catching cool along the mark he'd given Richie. "Shoes off," he said shortly, before heading back toward his bedroom. Already pulling off his shirt, showing off the muscles in his back, the jut of his shoulder blades. Richie brought his hand up to his face, then needlessly brushed his hair back. _Holy fuck_ , he thought, before urgently kicking his shoes off.

 

"That so wasn't your dick..." Richie said, betrayal making one eye more narrow than the other, as he studied Stan's cock. It rest, hard, on his stomach, as Richie braced his palm at the far side of Stan's hip, his pants still hanging on for dear life prior to being seated. Stan was already fingering himself again, a fresh coating of lube.

"No. It wasn't," Stan said, smirking.

"Cheap trick." Exasperated, Richie began digging around in his pants for his phone. "You definitely owe me an actual dick pic now. Stay still..." He pressed the camera button on his phone, before lining it up for a perfect picture. Stan owed him, so he made sure to get a view of Stan's fingers in his ass, too.

Stan moved his free hand to cover himself, but Richie grabbed him by the wrist, holding him off. " _Richie_!"

"What!? Let me document this momentous occasion, Staniel."

"If I see that picture _anywhere_ but on your phone, or anywhere _near_ our friends' eyes I'll -"

"Pfft! Like I'd share with them. They haven't been working tirelessly to get you into bed like I have; they don't fucking deserve it!"

 

There was something so easy about it... Knowing that neither of them had to cum, yet. Richie hovered over the top of Stan, a pillow beneath Stan's hips, and he was rocking slow into Stan. Easy. Soft. Sweet. Mouth over the juncture of shoulder and neck. While Stan gripped white stripes into his back and let out ghosts of moans. "Richie. Richie."

"Hm?" Richie asked, before even pulling away from Stan's neck.

"Up. More."

"Oh," Richie said, drawing back till just his tip was left inside Stan's stretched hole. Then he angled his hips and thrust in hard for the first time.

"Oh, fuck!" Stan half-growled, heels desperately tugging Richie's legs further apart by the insides of his knees, where they were pressed together.

Smirking, Richie did the same thing again, before looking down to their stomachs, seeing slick glistening on Stan's stomach. "You wet, baby?"

"Mm," Stan said, nodding, before his chest rumbled and he found focus, grounding himself by tightening around Richie. He made that stupid look fall of Richie's face. That stupid, gorgeous look. "Why are you going so slow?" Stan asked, as Richie manage to hold back from humping into him, failed to be tricked into it by the offer of Stan going tighter for him.

"What, you want me to go harder? Faster? And potentially screw up our deal? Fuck no. I'm gonna make you desperate to fuck me." That was part of the plan... But Richie also wanted this to last. This act and this moment. He wasn't going to let it slip away with reckless abandon. Stan under him, squirming, on the verge of crying from being too turned on without much give in the way of pleasure. Just enough to tease him. It was working Richie up, too, was the thing. But Richie was a master of self-denial. He could fuck Stan like this for hours if he had to. Had to go that long before Stan flipped him over, spread him open and did the fucking himself. Decided to show Richie _how it's done_.

Breathing out hot against Richie's Adam's apple, while Richie ground his hips into Stan's ass, Stanley looked back up at the ceiling, mouth falling open. "At least touch me. Jesus."

"No."

" _Richie_."

"No, Stan. Fucking earn it. Answer my question from earlier... Tell me what you like." And before Stan could say something like, 'I like having my cock touched,' Richie added, " _Besides_ vanilla-ass stimulation." As incentive, Richie thrust in hard a few times, angling it the way Stan had suggested until Stan's knees were digging into his hip bones, trying to drive him in deeper. "I'll go first, as an example," Richie grit out, as a wave sparked through him, Stan once again trying to tempt him by clenching around his cock tightly. It was almost enough to make him give in. Almost. "I like making out while swinging."

Stan made a face at that, then started to snake his hand down, reach for his own cock. But Richie wasn't distracted by Stan passing judgement - too used to it, Stan guessed. He pulled Stan's hand up by his wrist, and pinned it near his head, driving in extra slow as punishment. "No touching. Cheater."

"I'm not the one who's cheating. What the hell does that even mean? 'Making out while swinging?'"

"Are you gonna be good, or do I have to pin your other hand while I tell you? I mean I can just lay here if you want... I don't have to move _at all_." Richie was coming off very Little Red Hen about the whole thing. Only Stan wasn't refusing to do work to get what he wanted, so Richie was just being a brat about it.

Not that it wasn't doing it for Stan. His cock was aching with how turned on he was. He just... He just wanted more, and that didn't feel like it should be too much to ask for, at this point. Maybe he wanted to at least get close before their positions switched. But supposedly Richie was going to let him have that if he played his game. Of course. "You better pin it," Stan said, eyes challenging.

Richie gave him a cocky smile in response, and did as he was told. "So that's one stroke earned. Good boy..." Richie said, pressing a kiss to the corner of Stan's mouth before fucking into him again, setting a steady pace before explaining himself. "What I mean is, you sit on a swing, like at a playground - obviously when there's no one else around - and the other person sits on your lap facing you. And you swing. Their ass grinds into your crotch while you both try to stay on and moving, and you make the fuck out."

"That - _uh, shit_ ," Stan said, closing his eyes as Richie rammed favorably into his prostate again, cock twitching along his abdomen. "That actually works?"

"If you try hard enough," Richie said, amused. "Gotta wear the right clothes, mostly."

"Why don't you just get a sex swing? It's like a thousand times easier and way less likely to get you arrested."

"Maybe I would, if I had anywhere to hang it. Does _your_ property manager let you puncture the ceiling with bolts? You got one up in your walk-in closet?" Richie asked, face hovering closer to Stan's, lips almost brushing. Stan snorted in response, then tested Richie's hold on his arms. Only managing to get one an inch or so off his pillow before Richie was slamming it back down. "Nice try, babe. So other than being held down, what do you secretly want me to do to you?"

On a laugh, Stan asked, "Why does it have to have something to do with you? What if I'm into strangers at glory holes?" He smiled, self-impressed when Richie's eyebrows arched on his forehead, surprised at the suggestion.

"Well if you are, that's fucking hot. But also, you know, watch out for the STDs there, bud."

That brought a sour taste to Stan's mouth, so to push it away, he craned his neck, locking his lips to Richie's in a heated kiss that had the next minute edging him closer, just like he wanted. Not near enough, still, but something. He found himself wondering if he'd really missed Richie's mouth that much in the last few minutes of bickering that it'd mean that much to kiss him again. "I'm not into that, by the way," Stan clarified, when Richie pressed his head down to the pillow, and then dislodged himself from Stan's hold.

"Then stop evading the question," Richie said, warmly, pressing a kiss to the side of Stan's nose, "Jesus, Stanley, it's not that hard. What d'you jerk off to?" Richie's thighs were at the point they were shaking from the effort of keeping the current pace and angle.

The easy answer was 'you' but somehow Stanley wasn't ready for that.

"You know, the longer you go without answering, the more kinky I think you are. What're you hiding, man? I like weird shit, too," Richie said, finally foregoing the pinning of one of Stan's wrists, finally giving into himself. Fuck Stan for not playing well, anyway. _Richie_ **wanted** to touch Stan's cock, and he was done playing nice anyway. Richie gave Stan a rough few tugs to his cock, pleased when Stanley threw his head back, sounding fucked out by the quick touches. Apparently he really _had_ needed them, Richie realized, smiling to himself as he pulled out completely and reached for the lube.

He threw himself onto his back at Stan's side while Stan got over the whiplash of emptiness, the ache in his legs becoming more prominent, no longer sex-numb. "What - fu-" Stan started to say, but manage to control himself at the very last second.

"Good man. Show no weakness," Richie said, mocking, as he reached underneath a leg to get lube all around his hole before pushing in. He was already somewhat loose from earlier, so it didn't take much for him to be able to add a second finger.

"Get ready to fuck me, Stanny, cause I'm done playing with you and your uncooperative - bullshit." Richie swallowed around the last few words as he found his prostate, neck arching back into the pillows that smelled of Stan. Made his head swim. "You want me to ride you, babe, or you gonna fuck me like you wish I woulda fucked you?" He wasn't _trying_ to disappoint Stan, after all. He just wanted to play with him a little before giving in.

Stan was focusing on breathing, clenching around nothing, mind dizzy with how good he'd felt and then all at once, abandoned. He blinked, slow, and then turned his head to look at Richie, eyes raking over him, watching a third finger disappear inside, as Richie prepped himself. Biting into his lip, Stanley reached for his own dick, just feeling himself before grabbing the lube to slick himself up with. "You're too tired, though, right? To ride me," Stan breathed, eyes bright and mocking as he looked at Richie, thumb lingering too long, pressing too purposefully to the head of his cock. "Probably wouldn't be any good."

Winking, Richie closed the distance between them, pecking Stan's lips as a reward for his cheek. "You're cute. I'll play along cause I wanna see what you got..."

"You good?" Stan asked, nodding his head toward Richie's middle. Richie nodded, despite fingering himself deeper still. Swatting at Richie's thigh with the back of his hand, Stan said, "On your hands and knees, Rich."

"Sir, yes sir!" Richie said, freeing his fingers so that he could roll over, and up. "Daddy. Master? Any of those do it for y - ou?" Stan was quick. Quicker than Richie'd expected, but he was just teasing at Richie's hole, taking Richie in as he rubbed the head of his cock there. Richie cleared his throat of the surprise, and continued, "El presidente? Agent 007. I bet your a Bond guy, right? You wanna be the spy who shagged me, Stanny?" Then Richie transitioned into a Russian accent, and rocked slowly back onto Stan's cock, face going red even as he joked, "You want to get all my country's dirty secrets; but all you'll get are mine."

Shaking his head, Stan just barely hinted at spanking, with a flat-palmed tap to the side of Richie's ass. "You're so weird," he told Richie, helping, pushing himself in inch by inch until he could rest against the swell of Richie's ass, fully. "The Russian accent isn't doing it for me, surprisingly."

"Oh," Richie said, put out. "Maybe... Should I go south? Barbados? Or would you prefer Appalachian back country? I can do Bible Belt if that's what gets you keyed up, Father. Rabbi? I'm really digging your new-age Judeo-Christian religion, Father Rabbi. Tell me some more about the healing forces our Father In Heaven bestowed upon your cock? Please, please, pretty please? I can't wait to cum out all my sins."

Despite himself, Stan's grip _did_ tighten on Richie's hips, and he found himself trying to grind deeper into Richie's ass before finally giving up and pulling back. Richie noticed. Couldn't help but notice the way Stan's cock twitched within him. "Oh..." Richie said, then bit into his lower lip and thrust himself back on to Stan's cock as hard as he could. His own cock began dribbling precum as he screwed his eyes shut and clenched around Stan once he was seated again. "Holy shit," Richie said, over the top of Stan's moan. "How many people have you brought to Jesus with your dick? A whole chapel full? Is that what your service consists of? Instead of passing out sacrament, you just slide the Truth of the Holy Lord directly into everyone's bodies yourself?"

" _Richie_ ," Stan said brokenly. Having found a hard but steady rhythm that had Richie's voice cutting out as he worked out each word. Each taunt.

"Your congregation is so lucky... _I'm_ so lucky. So blessed. The Lord has truly made you powerful with his graces. I'm amazed. The hymns your choir must sing as you Heal them!"

Licking his lips, Stan shook his head at himself, the heat low in his belly making his face heat up with shame. "So stupid," he breathed, before leaning forward, breaking his pace, to kiss one of the knobs of Richie's spine. Taking a moment to reach around and find the base of Richie's cock. Rub just the arch of his thumb into Richie's erection. "Stop," he told him, quiet, half-assed. Amused and ... shy all at once.

Richie let his head drop down at the gentle touches, letting out a contented sigh as Stan drew his fist forward to Richie's tip, then back down again, before picking back up where he left off. Tucking his mouth into his bicep, Richie clung to the sheets, contemplating where to go from there. Whether Stan meant it, or not. That he should stop. It was all silly, he knew.

Turning his head up, Richie looked back at Stan from under his eyelashes. Took in the focus on his face, the pretty way his curls bounced on his head as he slammed into Richie, pushing Richie's hands deeper into the bed each time, pressing white circles into Richie's hip bone. Another good stroked down his cock and Richie's head was dropping again, a low groan passing his lips, when Stan traced the vein below the head of his cock, nails biting into Richie's side with his other hand.

Sucking in a sharp little breath, Richie finally broke the silence again. Shattered it with a low, serious voice, practically solemn. "Should I say a prayer? Ask for forgiveness? Should I tell God I'm sorry. Sorry that I think I might be enjoying your cock fucking me for reasons other than his Light? That I'm afraid I'll start sinning more just so I can feel you behind me?"

"Fuck, Richie, Jesus," Stan said, the words falling from his mouth as his hips pistoned faster into Richie, heart racing, cock leaking more slick into Richie's hole as his balls tightened.

" _Oh_ ," Richie said, involuntarily moaning out the word as his eyes closed. His legs were shaking again, cock drooling out onto the bed sheets below. He didn't even know if he, himself, was into the bullshit he was spouting, or if it was just the way Stan was fucking him in response. Calculated movements, cautious silence like he might give away how much he loved it. Loved hearing about how God wanted him to fuck away the sins of his sheep. Lead them to Him through orgasmic bliss. Eyes glazed over, Richie looked over his shoulder again, finishing the sentence he'd started, "I'm not Jesus, Father Rabbi... But I bet even Jesus would sin, if it meant getting fucked by you after."

Stan's toes were curling, hand stuttering over Richie's cock as his grip tightened, aiming for Richie's prostate as best he could. "Shut the fuck _up_ , Richie. God, just fucking cum, _please_."

Richie bent his elbows, at the command, prostrate for God, bowing before him - Richie could've snorted at the thought, if he weren't so close to cumming. He pressed his shoulders into the mattress, head turned to the side, as he knocked Stan's hand off his cock and began stripping himself for all he was worth as Stan groaned a wet kiss into his back, folded over the top of him with sharp, shallow thrusts until he was keening, spilling into Richie. It was so damn pretty. The sound Stan made. So much more than anything he ever imagined, and it sent a jolt through him. Sparking fire, as he thrust back one final time, and came onto the bedspread, biting out his own moan.

They sat there for a long, sticky moment, Stan collapsed over the top of him. Richie could barely open his eyes. Sleepy and sated, and _still_ turned on because Jesus fucking Christ, he just fucked Stanley fucking Uris. But then Stanley was falling down beside him, lying on his side with a sheen on his chest from sweating, and looking so beautiful Richie's chest ached.

He folded down onto his side, too, and cautiously lifted a finger to trace Stan's collar bones. One, and then the other, until Stan was looking at him with narrowed eyes, mouth thin. "Richie. I - When I said I wasn't sure how you'd take this, I meant: I'm... not _just_ attracted to you."

There was a joke on his tongue. Wondering how Stanley had the energy after that, and the balls, to get all soft and love-confession-y. But Richie'd been thinking pretty much the same thing. Just more - visually than he cared to admit any longer. "You know, as cool as they make friends with benefits sound, that's not exactly what I was aiming for either. If you think about it, we've pretty much been dating for like a year, at least. I mean, I haven't really been seeing anyone. Anyway. And you never said _you_ were."

Stan's brow twitched as he considered it. The idea that they'd been together, strings-attached, without even acknowledging it.

"I must be pretty ugly if it took you this long to get so wound up about being alone with me though, huh?" Richie said, huffing out a little laugh as he lifted his hand to thumb at Stan's lower lip.

"No. Not really... I just jerked off a lot. In fact, I think there was one time you walked in while I was in a stall..." Stan said, mouth twitching in a smile, just before he took Richie's thumb into his mouth, swiping his tongue over the pad of it.

Richie groaned low in his chest, and dragged himself closer. "Well, shit. We got a lot of lost time to make up for, don't we? Maybe you can show me all the places you've gotten off without me, and we can rectify that."

Pulling his thumb from Stan's mouth, Richie wrapped his hand around the side of Stan's neck and pulled him into a kiss. "Staying the night?" Stan asked, pecking his lips, chaste, as he looked into Richie's eyes. Richie nodded dumbly, and then let Stan kiss into his mouth deeper. Let Stan lay half on top of him with their legs slotted together. Tried not to get caught up about it, even as his heart raced in his chest. _Finally_ echoing in his brain.

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt I received from an anon: "Stozier? They're not together but there's this sexual tension between them and one day they were texting really late because neither of them can sleep and the conversation starts to go in another direction, so they start talking about their kinks and what they like, and Richie takes the opportunity to tell Stan what he wants to do to him and at the end Stan cant take it anymore and decide to go to Richie's place to see if Richie is a man of his word." They were kind enough to send me a prompt when I asked. [I'm gonna be real honest; I don't know what this is, and I kind of think it's probably awful but... I swear to god I tried. I'm so sorry...]
> 
> I want to get more practice with as many of the Party/Losers (and any ship combo therein) as possible. I'll never hold your prompt hostage (you can spread it around as much as you like, cause all authors have different styles/takes) and will let you know if I _can't_ fill it. You can ask on anon, or off, no judgement ever [I NEVER KINK SHAME.] I just ask they not be angst and/or racially-sensitive prompts. [prompts go here](https://jacksbrak.tumblr.com/ask) ♥
> 
> Thanks to [Dr. S/euss](http://www.lyricsfreak.com/d/dr+seuss/green+eggs+and+ham_20208487.html) for help with the title and text messages.


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